


tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme

by sanzuh



Series: tale as old as time [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Sansa's superpower, but Tormund is show!Tormund, despite D&D reducing him to a comic relief side-character, just because I love Kristofer's portrayal of him, the power of songs, this is bookverse, wolfish Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzuh/pseuds/sanzuh
Summary: Satin averts his eyes and all around her bodies shift and uncomfortable looks are exchanged. Something akin to fear grips her and automatically she reaches out. Ghost is right there beside her. She wraps her arms around him and buries her fingers in his fur, kissing the top of his head. A buzzing of whispers and hisses arises around her, but one man bursts into a loud and booming laugh. He's tall and burly with reddish hair and a rusty beard."Is this the beast you've all been afraid of? The pretty little lady tamed the ferocious wolf with a touch of her hand," he snorts, before walking toward Sansa in long strides. Brienne tenses up beside her. "I'll take ye to Lord Snow, lass."
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: tale as old as time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968514
Comments: 49
Kudos: 240





	tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FedonCiadale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/gifts).



> I thought you deserved a little gift after all the crazy antis stalking your inbox this past week. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> This was also supposed to be my entry for the free day of the Drabble Event, but it got too long for that.

Sansa is exhausted, the endless snow surrounding them and drifting down from the skies making her numb, and even Brienne is nodding off in the saddle, but when white flashes against white, she jerks upright, immediately alert again. Sansa's heart leapt up at the sight, hoping against her better judgement that she knows what she's just seen. 

"My Lady!" Brienne warns her as she slips out of the saddle, sliding down her mare's flank to chase a shadow. She ignores her lady knight as her boots sink into the deep snows.

"Ghost!" she calls out. "Ghost, to me!"

She holds a hand over her eyes to shield them from the wind and snow, and soon, the direwolf comes trotting up to her. He sits down on his haunches and allows her to hug him, her gloved hands carding into his fur as he presses his muzzle into her neck.

Ghost leads them to Castle Black. The men in the yard seem wary of them, but a slender young man with raven curls approaches to help her dismount. Her hood slips off as her feet hit the ground.

Some old habit makes her say: "Thank you, Ser," and the youth blushes. 

"I'm not a Ser, My Lady" he answers. "My name is Satin Flowers, I'm Lord Snow's steward." His eyes are dark and kind.

"Thank you, Satin." She glances around. Some of the men surrounding them are in black, others are dressed in mottled grey and brown furs and leathers, with long beards and shaggy hair. They still appear on guard, some of them even strike her as frightened, though she doesn't understand why.

"I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell," she announces. "I wish to see the Lord Commander."

Satin averts his eyes and all around her bodies shift and uncomfortable looks are exchanged. Something akin to fear grips her and automatically she reaches out. Ghost is right there beside her. She wraps her arms around him and buries her fingers in his fur, kissing the top of his head. A buzzing of whispers and hisses arises around her, but one man bursts into a loud and booming laugh. He's tall and burly with reddish hair and a rusty beard.

"Is this the beast you've all been afraid of? The pretty little lady tamed the ferocious wolf with a touch of her hand," he snorts, before walking toward Sansa in long strides. Brienne tenses up beside her. "I'll take ye to Lord Snow, lass."

"Tormund," Satin addresses the man, and there's a warning in his voice.

"Is something amiss?" she asks. 

The men hold each other's gazes for a moment until Satin nods and agrees to accompany them. Brienne follows behind them.

As they cross the courtyard, Satin tells her the unlikely tale of Jon rising from the dead after he was murdered by his sworn brothers. A sob wrecks her chest. She almost lost part of her family again. What has happened to Jon frightens her, but he's here and he's alive, so she decides she'll be grateful to whichever god brought him back to life.

"He's not the man he used to be," Tormund the wildling tells her. "I'm not sure he's still a man at all," he adds in a low mutter.

She shakes her head. "I don't understand."

"Dying, or perhaps coming back has changed him," Satin informs her after a long silence. "But he's still in there," he reassures her. Sansa has not forgotten his earlier hesitation to bring her to Jon. Does he truly believe that, or is he only saying it for her benefit?

"I do not like this, My Lady," Brienne murmurs as they enter the armoury. "I know he's your brother, but it sounds like he might be dangerous."

She can't deny it, but it doesn't matter. "I need to see him, Brienne." He's the only one still left to her. "I know you'll keep me safe," she adds to appease her Lady Knight.

When they enter the room where they've been keeping Jon, the men stay by the door, and Brienne clasps Sansa's elbow. She doesn't pull away from her touch, not yet, but she squares her shoulders and straightens her spine. 

"Jon?" she calls out. "Are you awake?" She shakes off Brienne's hand and shivers as she steps into the cold, dim room. _"The fire frightens him,"_ Satin explained earlier. 

He emerges from a corner and approaches her slowly. As her eyes get used to the darkness, she can see that he's not the shy, lanky boy she remembers. He has a man's body now, taller, harder and more angular. His hair is longer than she's ever seen it, a beard covers his chin and jaw and he's dressed in simple black wool, too much of his pale skin exposed to the harsh wintry cold. 

His eyes study her as he closes the distance between them, occasionally nervously flitting to the door and back, like a wounded animal's. He starts circling her, coming closer with each step. He tilts his chin up and sniffs the air, his nostrils flaring. _He's more wolf than man,_ Sansa realizes in shock. 

He's come so close now she can count his long, dark eyelashes. If she were to lift her hand, she could touch the scars over his eye. She wishes to ask him how he got those, but she decides to remain silent for now, offering him an encouraging smile. 

He lifts a hand, and she tries to stay still, but she suspects he can hear how her heart is trying to leap out of her chest. He fingers a strand of her hair and somewhere behind her, she can hear Tormund whisper: "Kissed by fire."

Jon releases her hair and buries his face in her neck, nuzzling the skin there. _Just like Ghost,_ she tells herself. His arms slide around her waist, and she lifts her own to loop them around his neck. A lump fills up her throat, and tears slip from her eyes, a sob bursting from her lips.

Jon responds with a low growl, and she can feel the others coming closer. Brienne cries out: "My Lady!"

"It's all right," she tells them.

Jon pulls away to look at her face, his eyes widening, and he inclines his head to kiss the path her tears have made on her cheeks, his tongue darting out to lick them from her skin. Sansa giggles at the odd sensation.

A crease appears between Jon's eyebrows as he meets her eyes again. "Sansa... Lady... Sing" His voice is rough, as if he hasn't used it in a long while and his words come slowly and arduously. She fights back another sob.

Satin gasps, but Tormund laughs again. The sounds startle Jon and he pulls her closer, tucking her against his side to snarl at the others. Brienne's cry of "My Lady!" is sharper and filled with panic this time.

Sansa lifts her hand to cup Jon's cheek until he is meeting her gaze. He's panting, and the fear hasn't left his eyes. The tiniest sound or movement has him flinching and scanning the room.

"Jon," she says. "It's all right, Jon. We're safe." To her surprise she realizes she's telling him the truth. The man who's holding her in his arms is a stranger to her, a shade of the half-brother she used to know, though she hardly knew him at all, but she can tell that Satin was right. Somewhere deep inside, Jon is still in there.

He remembers her, and Lady. She is not sure the word "sing" was a request or just another memory, but she starts humming tunelessly, and almost immediately, she can feel his body relaxing against hers. He takes her hand and lifts it to his hair.

"Sansa... Sing... Brush..." She can tell it's difficult for him to get the words out, so she offers him another smile and starts stroking his hair, watching his eyes flutter closed. She hasn't sung in a very long time, but her voice grows stronger, and soon she's singing a real song, _The Winter Maid._

Jon rests his head on her shoulder, and Sansa's heart is singing as well. Though this is stranger than any tale or song she's ever heard, it is sweet to see him again. 


End file.
